After reading too many shitty reviews that included summations like "band X screwing band Y on Z kind of drugs," I swore off comparing bands to more-famous bands. It's like quitting cigarettes, however. With a little willpower, I can produce more-creative descriptions. But sometimes, as when I'm listening to the Freeways' debut, I buckle under the anxiety and dock their score for inhabiting the sonic coke den of established psych-rock outfits who are themselves unapologetic late-'60s throwbacks. It's as if they'd invited themselves to a party that fizzled out hours ago but had brought excellent metaphorical hash to share with anyone who's still awake. Considering what the local quartet accomplish within the Black Rebel Jonestown Massacre template on their first try, we can expect superior material down the line. On "Country," co-vocalist Karen Zanes summons the ghost of Nico and teaches it to quit being so deadpan. There's a pleasant aroma of menace detectable in the muddy garage haze of "Love Is a Sick Thing," and the up-tempo spin on the Warlocks' "Shake the Dope Out" trumps the original. Which means the Freeways have got off to a better start than the Warlocks did.

Laura Veirs | July Flame Thanks to the string of albums she's released over the past decade or so, this Portland-based folkie has cultivated a reputation as a gifted chronicler of the outdoor experience.

Brightness falls At first glance, Canadian synth-popstress Lights looks as if she'd been created in the basement lab of some suburban geek-rock fanboy.

Sweet release I don’t want to waste your time waxing philosophical about the problematic logic behind qualifying music “good” or “bad,” much less pontificating on whether “sophisticated punk” is an oxymoron.

Present perfect For some hip-hop heads, artists like Mickey Factz represent everything that reeks in rap. Between his bypassing the rugged underground, blowing up on-line, and occasionally kicking Kanye-esque arrogance, he's an easy target for so-called purists.

Injustice for all Scott Sturgeon loses his train of thought a couple of times during this interview. He's loopy from jet lag — which is unavoidable after a 20-hour flight from New Zealand (halfway around the planet from his non-residency at a squatted apartment building in New York City), where he's just finished a tour with his claim-to-fame band, Leftover Crack.

Number two blues As we approach NFL draft season, it’s fun to look back at those great draft prospects of yore, the workout warriors and combine heroes who titillated coordinators, coaches, and fans leading up to the big selection day in New York.

Contemporary retro At what point does present-day genre saturation override a style's era of origin?

Cults | Cults 7'' The duo who make up Cults have profited from having a dearth of info online.

HOW TO DESTROY ANGELS | WELCOME OBLIVION | March 13, 2013 Whereas the monsters and ghosts of NIN songs can scream in your face and rip you to bits with their fangs, Welcome Oblivion tracks like techno-folk haunter "Ice Age" and the doom-pop jaunt "How Long?" make uncredited cameo appearances in your nightmares until you go insane and eat your own hands.

JOHNNY MARR | THE MESSENGER | February 25, 2013 Going solo is rarely a good decision. For every exception to the rule of who flourishes after unburdening themselves of the half-talents that have been holding them back — Justin Timberlake, for one — there are dozens of embarrassing Dee Dee Ramone rap albums that exist because Joey and Johnny Ramone weren't around to kibosh a terrible idea.

WHAT'S F'N NEXT? BUKE AND GASE | January 29, 2013 Almost every person I've told about Buke and Gase assumes that they'll hate this band, which isn't their fault.

BLEEDING RAINBOW | YEAH RIGHT | January 23, 2013 The only defect of the sort-of-but-not-really debut from Bleeding Rainbow (no longer called Reading Rainbow, possibly due to litigious ire festering under LeVar Burton's genial television persona) is that the Philly foursome merely hop off the launching point forged by Sonic Youth, My Bloody Valentine, and a handful of others from the oft-exalted grunge era.